Of Speed Dating and Last Resorts
by asteristar
Summary: I'm about to do one of the most despicable things I'll ever do. I'm about to go speed dating. Part 4 of 'Of Booth and Brennan'. BB
1. Brennan

Of Speed Dating and Last Resorts

A/N: I made this one first person – I was writing it and I lapsed out of my usual third person. I think the new POV fits rather nicely, and I think Booth's chapter will be first person, too. On with the story.

* * *

In all my life, I never thought I'd ever sink this low. It's a disgrace, what I'm about to do, but it's my last resort. I've tried everything else, and none of it seems to work. I've tried the technology, thought to make the process faster and easier. I've tried the old fashioned approach, slower but with unquestionable results. And now I'm here, about to do one of the most despicable things I can think of.

Speed dating.

It defies all anthropological law, breaks every rule of interaction I've discovered in my ancient studies. And I hate breaking rules, something I do only when desperate. Well, I'm way past desperate now. I hit frantic not too long ago when the hottest guy I know told me he had no plans this evening. Gorgeous guy, single, Friday night, and no date? I wince as I remember the panic that had rushed through me. If he has no date now, there is no hope for me ever.

I know myself to be an odd choice for any guy – my face is pretty but unconventional, and my social skills are next to nothing. It baffles me as to why he's stayed with me this long. He's got enough standing at work to ask for a new partner and get one. But he hasn't asked. And though I will never admit it to him, I hope he never will.

The lab is finally empty, save myself, and I close everything down for the night, keeping one eye on the clock. I haven't got a ton of time until it starts. I shudder and grimace, shrugging off my lab coat and entering my office. This can only be bad. The guys will be awful, and the girls will be wearing too much makeup. I laugh at myself. I'm way too worried about this. I have to – what's the word? He's told me this so often. Chill, that's right. I have to chill.

After straightening my papers and checking my hair, I drive to the brightly lit, low-slung building where Angela told me this speed dating thing is going to take place. I get out of the car, nervously fixing my coat, and take one step towards the building before I freeze.

Making their way towards the doorway is an odd pair of men. One is about thirty, with dyed blonde hair and a badly trimmed beard. The other is in his early twenties, wearing a plaid button down shirt tucked into his high jeans.

I breathe deeply, trying to stay calm. I'm stuck somewhere between laughing and crying, and soon find myself sitting in my car with my phone pressed to my ear like a lifeline. I can't quite remember which speed-dial button I pressed, but I need some encouragement, and fast. I can't lose my nerve now. I have to do this, if only to prove something to myself. I have to know that I can date, or at least try to, without feeling like I'm betraying him.

"Hello?"

It's his voice. I must have pressed number one. My resolve vanishes in an instant and it takes all my strength to not collapse into a puddle of tears in the driver's seat of my car.

"I can't do this," I say in a rush. I hear him shift, his couch making noise as he sits up straighter.

"Can't do what?" he asks. He sounds concerned, and I feel a wave of comfort wash over me. He cares. The comfort is replaced by shame as I realize that I have to tell him where I am. I have to tell him that I, Temperance Brennan, actually attempted to speed date. Granted, I failed, but I actually tried.

"I can't go in there," I answer vaguely, trying to avoid saying it out right. There's no reason for me to bring on my humiliation any faster than is necessary.

"Can't go in where?" His voice is gentle, coaxing. "You can tell me." He's playing on the trust he knows I have for him. Oh God, why can't I ever refuse him?

"Speed dating," I say guiltily in a voice little more than a whisper. I know he hears me.

For some reason, this only seems to worry him more. He tells me to stay there and not to move and I'm frozen in my seat. After he hangs up, I wait a few minutes, hand clutching my phone tightly. What have I gotten myself into? He'll want to know what I'm doing, why I didn't go in, why I called him. And the only thing that could explain any of that is something I'm not sure how to say. What can I tell him?

That I stood there by my car and realized that as long as he is as cocky and irritating and smug and wonderful as he is, the world of speed dating will be forever closed to me? That I watched those guys go in there and realized that I don't want to have a last resort, that I want him always to be first and foremost? Yeah, sure. He'll love that. That thought gives me pause. Would he? Could it be possible that he might not mind? I wave the possibility off dismissively. Keep telling yourself that, Temperance, and you might actually believe it someday.

He arrives in less than ten minutes, and as he gets out of his car I shoot him a look that I hope says, "How many traffic laws did you break to get here?" But just judging from the thoughts I've been thinking, I know it shows relief more than anything else. I roll down the window as he comes towards me. He leans his forearms on the window ledge and watches me for a few moments. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.

"Speed dating, Bones?" he asks quietly, a hint of a wry grin gracing his lips.

I can only nod, transfixed by the gentle compassion I see in him. He laughs, not bothering to hide his amusement, and that jerks me back to my normal self.

"Yes," I answer indignantly. "It's a perfectly respectable way to meet your potential partner without all the hassle that daily life ensures."

The change in his facial expression is barely noticeable, but I see a flash of jealousy and anger in his eyes and I'm not frightened, just intrigued. He's jealous? About me?

"You already have a partner, Bones," he says somewhat harshly. "I'm your partner."

"I know, I know," I tell him irritably. There is a slight pause, and suddenly we both freeze in our current positions, each realizing the gravity of the statements we've made. I've known for a while now that we're partners in the greater sense of the word, but the fact that he knows it too is enough to render me speechless.

When he finally finds his voice, it is quiet and sincere. "Good," he says softly. "Good."

I look up at him, surprised by his tactile acceptance. I guess I expected him to do something a bit more drastic, but I'm happy in the quiet comfort we have created. He reaches out slowly, taking my idle hand in one of his. I look up quickly, startled by the sudden contact. He just smiles and tightens his grip, our fingers intertwining. His gesture seems more eloquent to me than any speech, and there is a complex simplicity in the way he looks at me.

I return the smile in what I hope is an encouraging manner, and he pulls me closer to him, our lips fractions from meeting. Just before he kisses me, I remember something and pull away, laughing somewhat hysterically.

"Oh my God," I manage to gasp out between my bouts of laughter. I glance over at him and suddenly realize that my laughing just before he kisses me must not be very good for his self-esteem. I can feel his hand gradually slipping from mine and reflexively latch on with my other hand, keeping him from leaving me. His head is turned from me, his eyes fixed on some distant spot.

"Booth." I say softly, but nothing happens. "Seely," I try, and it seems to work. He turns slightly, so I can just see his barely see his face, but he will not look at me. "I'm not laughing at you."

This admission brightens his eyes, and his gaze meets mine carefully. "No?" he asks. "Why, then?"

"Angela made me promise that I would find somebody here and have him take me to lunch tomorrow," I tell him, grinning widely. "I was just thinking about the look on her face when she finds out that I found you instead."

Understanding flickers in his expression, and he lets out a deep resounding laugh that is contagious. I cannot help but giggle, something that is even more rare me breaking the rules. He suddenly releases my hands tells me to roll up the window. I do so, and he pulls on the door handle, opening the door and pulling me out quickly. I try to keep moving, but he forestalls my continued motion and pushes me back up against the car door. I open my mouth to ask him what he's doing, but he cuts me off by pressing his mouth up against mine.

The kiss is one that shatters the foundations of my soul. His lips are crushed against mine with a bruising force that manages to feel rough and reverent at the same time. His hands are pressed firmly against my hips, and I have twined my arms around his neck, my fingers entangled in his hair. He finally pulls away breathlessly, and leans his forehead against mine, our eyes meeting in a stare that conveys both trust and hope.

I'm just about ready for him to kiss me again when he steps away from me and starts walking towards his car.

"Booth!" I call after him, utterly confused.

He turns while walking, a cheeky grin on his face. "See you for lunch tomorrow, Bones!"

I lean back against the car and watch as he climbs into the SUV and drives away. I chuckle softly.

Guess I won't need to go speed dating after all.

Thank God.


	2. Booth

Of Speed Dating and Last Resorts

A/N: Here we go, second chapter of the fourth part. I'm going to finish up the Booth POV chapters before adding the fifth story, so it could take a while. I make a slight reference to "Two Bodies in the Lab", but very quick and nothing really important. First person again, but slightly different than anything I've ever written. It's more like Booth is talking to someone – it's hard to explain, so I'll just let you read and find out.

Oh, and I own nothing. I keep forgetting to include that.

* * *

It's Friday night, and I have no date. 

I guess I could have asked her, but I really hate setting myself up for failure. And by asking her, I would be doing just that. See, when I get around to asking her out on a date, I'd like to have some kind of guarantee that she won't give me a look and just keep on working on whatever skeleton happens to be lying around. Yeah, it's pretty much a fact. Asking out Temperance Brennan is pointless.

Pointless, you say? Let me expound. I know her. Better than she knows herself, sometimes. So I know that her thirst for independence won't let her lean on me the way people who love each other do. I know that there's no way she would willingly admit that she needs me as much as I need her. And she does. Need me, that is.

Need, I've discovered, is very much a mutual thing. The whole 'it goes both ways' thing. I need Parker not only because he's my son, but also because he's the one person who loves me unconditionally. He needs me because I'm his dad, because I'm the guy who'll take him to baseball games, the guy who'll let him stay out later when he's a teenager.

I need her because, well, because she's her. And I know that sounds really cliché and like something out of a romance novel, but at this point, I really don't care. She likes to think that she's cut off from the world, that nobody needs her and that she needs nobody. But, like I said, I know her, and I know that she needs me because I'm her other half. The ying to her yang. The Mulder to her Scully. The peanut butter to her jelly. You get the picture.

So why, you ask, am I sitting here on the couch alone on a Friday if I know that my other half is out there probably examining a skeleton in a brightly lit lab? Because making us into an us has to be her choice. I can't force her into anything. Actually, scratch that. I can force her into working with me on a case. So, let's revise that statement. I can't force her into anything concerning our relationship. That's one of the places where it has to be equal on both parts. I'm ready, but she's not. So I'll just have to wait.

I hate waiting.

So I'm sitting there on the couch, waiting, when my cell phone rings. I've never been as thankful to caller ID as I am at this moment, because the tiny, lit screen shows that one Temperance Brennan is calling me.

"Hello?" I answer, trying desperately not to sound as happy as I am that she's calling.

"I can't do this," she tells me, and I sit up straighter. I've never thought that I would hear her say that. The woman I know can do anything, and never hesitates to remind me of the fact.

"Can't do what?" I ask concernedly.

"I can't go in there," she answers, and I think I can detect a slight embarrassment in her voice. This could be interesting.

"Can't go in where? You can tell me," I say gently but firmly. If she trusts me, she'll tell me.

"Speed dating," she says quietly. I choke back a laugh. She's what? Speed dating? This is both worrying and amusing at the same time. I tell her to stay there and not to move, and I hang up. I look down at my clothes and realize with a wry grin that I'm still in my work clothes. Now whose the one who works too late? She's out speed dating and I'm sitting here watching football in an expensive, and now wrinkled, suit.

I get in the car and begin the drive to the parking lot she told me she's in. Now, you wonder why her speed dating is worrying to me. I'll give you a little insight into my concern. Dr. Temperance Brennan has not been in a proper date in a very long time. Angela can give you a more accurate number than I can, but I'd say about two years. We're not counting her almost-date with Mr. Online Freak. So, a woman who you could reasonably call a social recluse has just gone speed dating, something that is perhaps the most social way to date. Tell me that's not cause for concern.

About a thousand questions are running through my mind. Why on Earth would she feel the need to go speed dating? Why couldn't she go in? Why did she call me and not Angela? Why the hell doesn't she see what's between us? I seriously doubt she'd answer that last question, but it's definitely worth asking. But seriously, why speed dating? She's never going to find a guy in there who appreciates the fine sciences of skull reconstruction. I mean, I may not get how to do it, but I certainly appreciate the result. You get a whole new skull, face, name – bing, bang, boom.

I pull into the parking lot in record time, most of the drive a colorful blur in my mind. She's sitting in her car fiddling with her cell phone, and from my point of view, she looks alone and lost. My heart nearly breaks at the sight of her in all her forlorn vulnerability. No one should be reduced to this. Damn speed dating.

She rolls down the window as I near her car, and I lean my forearms on the window edge, studying her profile as her eyes focus on something on the windshield. I'm making her uncomfortable, I can tell, and I love it.

"Speed dating, Bones?" I ask quietly, trying not so show just how funny I find this situation. Most of my concern has been pushed aside now that I'm actually here.

She nods, her eyes finally meeting mine, and I laugh, not bothering to hide my amusement anymore. This causes her to snap out of her ashamed daze, and she frowns at me.

"Yes," she answers indignantly. "It's a perfectly respectable way to meet your potential partner without all the hassle that daily life ensures."

Any humor I find in the situation is wiped away by her use of the word 'partner'. Wrong choice, Bones. Boyfriend, husband, lover, anything but partner.

"You already have a partner, Bones. I'm your partner," I say, and I know there's an edge to my voice. But she has to understand what she means to me. She has to understand that we're more than just a pair. We're the only pair either of us could ever be part of.

"I know, I know," she tells me irritably, and it seems to be a reflex more than anything else. She tenses suddenly, and I can see that she's finally realized that I'm in on the joke, that we both know that 'partners' means so much more when it comes to us.

I let the silence linger for a few moments, relishing the revelations we've made. "Good," I say at last. "Good."

She glances up at me, and I can see her surprise. What, she thinks I'm going to kiss her while she's still inside the car? Yeah, right. And besides, I like this quiet thing we have right now. She's not quiet nearly enough. I reach down carefully, and gently take her idle hand in mine. Lacing our fingers together, our eyes meet once more, and a volume of words are spoken in that single second. I smile at her and tighten my grip, trying to show her everything without actually saying anything.

Then she smiles, and all my thoughts about not kissing her while she's in a car are wiped away. I lean in carefully, using my grip on her hand to pull her closer to me. We're about to kiss when she leans back, laughing harder than I've ever seen her laugh. Way to ruin a guy's self esteem, Bones.

"Oh my God," she gasps out, and I turn away, trying to disentangle my fingers from hers. Is kissing me really that funny? Her laughter quiets, and I think that perhaps she's finally realized how damaging laughter can be.

"Booth," she calls softly. Oh no, she's going to have to say something better to get me to turn around. "Seeley," she tries. Something like that might work. I turn slightly, just so that I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She looks rueful, but she's smiling slightly. "I'm not laughing at you," she tells me, and I finally turn completely.

"No?" I ask. "Why, then?"

"Angela made me promise that I would find somebody here and have him take me to lunch tomorrow," she tells me, grinning widely. "I was just thinking about the look on her face when she finds out that I found you instead."

Everything makes sense now, and I can't help but laugh as well. Angela's expression would be funny, sure, but I'm laughing mostly from the pure joy of seeing her like this. She's more human to me now than she ever has been, and I love seeing this little spark in her eyes that laughter seems to bring.

On impulse, I release her hands and instruct her to roll up the window. She does, and I open her door, pulling her out quickly. She closes it behind her and tries to keep moving forward, but I press her back against the car door and crush her mouth to mine.

I could make a ton of overdone metaphors or say a whole bunch of stuff about how I knew there would never be any other for me, and it would never be enough. When I finally pull away, her arms are looped around my neck and my hands are resting comfortably on her hips. I lean my forehead against hers, our eyes meeting, matching smiles on our faces.

Her eyes flutter closed as I lean in slightly, and I know she wants me to kiss her, but just to be contrary, I step away from her and start walking to my car. She's left me hanging for long enough. Now, it's her turn.

"Booth!" she calls, and I can hear the bewilderment in her voice. I turn to face her but keep walking, not able to keep the impudent grin form my face.

"See you for lunch tomorrow, Bones!"

I climb into my SUV and drive away, the rear-view mirror affording me a glimpse of her as she smiles and leans back against the car.

I don't have to wait anymore.

**fin**


End file.
